


The Mermaid's Kiss

by Ivy_Adair



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Merpeople, Alternate Universe - Pirate, Alternate Universe - Pirates, Captain Cullen, Character Reimagining, DA Fic Swap, Dragon Age Fic Swap, F/M, Isabela ex Machina, Kiss Magic, Magical Bond, Mermaids, Mild Language, Pirates, Shipwrecks, Sword Fighting, You can't have a pirate AU without Isabela it's just not allowed, mild violence, privateers, technically Cullen is a privateer and not a pirate, what else can i tag this with?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-25
Updated: 2016-10-25
Packaged: 2018-08-27 00:44:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8381113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ivy_Adair/pseuds/Ivy_Adair
Summary: Privateer Cullen Rutherford is left marooned in a rowboat during a storm after his crew mutinies. When the boat capsizes, he's sure that death awaits him. However, he finds himself saved by the ancient magic of a mermaid's kiss. The Mer say that the kiss is a gift from a Mer in love with a human, in order to bring them down into the Mer's world. The kiss creates a powerful bond between himself and the mermaid, Rhian Amell who finds that for as long as the magic is active, she can walk on land. Cullen, who is immediately taken with the mermaid decides to show her the human world. But, doing the right thing puts Rhian in danger and the magic can't last forever. Written for Dragon Age Fic Swap.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Gallicenae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gallicenae/gifts).



Bloomingtide 15:38, Golden

“A storm is a terrible time to develop a conscience, Captain.”

Cullen wriggled from his seated position in the rowboat, testing his bonds. The thick rope wrapped around him, pinning his arms to his side. He tried to loosen it, break free just a little but the bindings refused to budge. A clap of thunder, which resembled more of an explosion of the Maker’s wrath than any storm, sounded overhead. The rain poured mightily. Cullen was soaked to the bone. His clothes clung to him, binding him almost as bad as the rope. Worst of all, his little boat was rapidly filling with rainwater. He could feel the water pooling around his feet, tipping and pouring into his boots. He looked up at his former crew, all still perched safely on board the ship, his ship, _The Sword of Mercy_. She was a frigate, a beautiful vessel that had carried him and his crew faithfully across the Waking Sea. Now, he had to watch as his mutinous crew sailed her out of his reach. And Maker, it was all because he couldn’t bear to do the Chantry’s dirty work any longer. 

Like most sea captains of this age, Cullen had been given a Letter of Marque from the Chantry, which gave him and his crew permission to plunder the ships of those that were not loyal. In the Waking Sea, the water that connected the nations of Ferelden and Orlais to the Free Marches, the majority of the ships they plundered belonged to the nomadic Free Mages. There were others, of course, the scant few junk ships or sloops of Dalish Elves or the mighty Dwarven ironclads smuggling lyrium, but the Chantry asked their privateers to focus on the Mage ships. When the orders told them to go to the waters off the coast of Rivain, he had been skeptical and when they turned from plundering to enslavement, Cullen’s loyalties had finally collapsed. He was loyal to the Maker, but the Chantry? 

“You’re a fool, Captain,” his former first mate, Alrik, called down to him. “The Chantry’ll pay us this ship’s weight in gold for delivering these Robes to Orlais. You could have been rich, but now, you’ll die.”

“We’re not the Imperium, Alrik. We don’t enslave people!” Cullen cried over the din of the turbulent sea. 

Alrik laughed bitterly. “Mages aren’t people, Captain. You had your chance. Now, give my regards to the Maker.”

“At least give me my sword, you coward.”

“Oh, I think Karras is rather enjoying your blade. Aren’t you Karras?”

The man in question, Karras, smirked. “She’s a damn fine blade.”

Alrik laughed again. “Goodbye, Cullen!”

Karras, brought the full weight of the sword down on the rope holding Cullen’s rowboat to the ship. The rope severed and the little rowboat lurched as the sea seemed to grab it and pull it away from the frigate. Cullen was knocked to the floor from the force of the waves. He tried to struggle against his bonds, knowing it was only a matter of moments before the little boat took on too much water. Still, his arms remained strapped to his sides. Another clap of thunder brought a streak of white light across the sky, the shock of it’s closeness caused Cullen to gasp and in turn, he was rewarded with a lung full of seawater. He coughed and sputtered as he tried to flip himself over on to his back. Finally, he managed to roll over in the boat and was left staring at the stormy sky above him. He shut his eyes, feeling the cold rain pelt against his skin and as another explosion of thunder rang in his ears, he knew there was no hope. 

“Though all before me is shadow, yet shall the Maker be my guide,” he murmured to himself. “I shall not be left to wander the drifting roads of the Beyond. For there is no darkness in the Maker’s light… and nothing that He has wrought shall be-”

The final word in his prayer was cut off as the sound of cracking wood filled his ears. He opened his eyes just in time to see the bow and stern of the boat fold up on top of him. Cullen felt the wood split beneath him as he was thrown into the ocean. Down and down he sank; the blackness of the sea swallowed him. He tried to swim; his legs kicked against the pull of the ocean but without the use of his arms, there was no point. He shut his eyes and prayed to the Maker that his death would be painless as his oxygen began to run out. 

* * *  
_Darkness._

_Suffocating._

_A glimmer amidst the black._

_Something graceful, flowing._

_A flash of grey-blue, like… Lake Calenhad after a summer’s rain._

_Softness pressed against his lips and…_ air. __

_Breathing._

_A flash of lightning overhead_

_Again, a glint of blue and brown._

_He feels himself being pulled through the water as his eyes shut again._

Cullen coughed, his mouth full of sand as he came to. All at once he was aware of the sensation of sun beating down his skin, and the sounds of the ocean lapping gently against a shore. He groaned and moved to raise his arms, realizing at once his limbs were no longer bound. His mind reeled, trying to piece together the events of the previous evening. He could remember the storm, his crew staring up at him as they…. Those dogs had mutinied! They’d bound him, shoved him into a lifeboat and cut him adrift, all because he wanted to free the captured Mages. He wiggled his very free arms at his sides, glancing around. There was no rope in sight, so how had his arms come free? 

Cullen dug his boots into the sand as he sat up and took in his surroundings. He was on a beach, a beautiful beach with golden sand and the cerulean ocean just a finger width’s distance away from the soles of his boots. The only time he’d ever seen golden sand and the sea exactly that color had been the last time he was in Rivain, which meant that he hadn’t drifted far. Still, it mattered little if the land he was on was devoid of any others. With a groan, he rolled on to his knees and pushed himself to his feet. He batted at his clothes, trying to brush the sand off of his dark grey breeches. Cullen took a step, his feet sloshing in sodden boots as the scarlet sash tied at his waist left tiny droplets of water on the sand. He untied the sash, wrung it up into a line and squeezed the excess water from it. He brought the cloth up to the back of his neck and patted the hot skin there with the wet fabric. He exhaled through his teeth, eyes still darting around to look for some sign of life. 

The spit of land - was it an island? He wasn’t at home in the waters around Rivain - was sloped, arcing up as the land faded from the golden beach to a tropical forest. In the distance he could see a mountain and… Maker’s breath, was that steam rising off of the peak? He groaned to himself. Of course, he’d manage to wash up in the one place in Thedas that had an active volcano. Cullen’s stomach growled as he draped the wet sash around his neck. Food was priority two; first he had to deal with his wet boots. He plopped back down on the sand and shucked his boots. Upending the left one, he grimaced as the inch or so of water poured out of it and on to the sand next to him. He repeated the process to the second one and shook his head as even more water came out. Walking around in wet boots was miserable, and liable to lead to sores on his feet. Yet, not walking with his boots on opened up even more dangers. In the end, he bit back a curse as he slid the wet boots back into place. 

He rose again and shrugged off his brown and silver waistcoat, leaving him in just his silver jerkin. He looped the waistcoat around his arm so he wouldn’t lose it and made his way towards the tree line. The breeze picked up as he left the beach, battering the sleeves of his red shirt against his arms. Still, the air felt nice against his burning skin. 

The jungle detritus crunched underneath his boots as he parted the ferns and fronds that blocked his path. His amber eyes were ever vigilant; not knowing what sort of predators lurked in the shadows of the thick green foliage. He wandered deep into the jungle, until he could no longer hear the ocean lapping at the shore. Cullen swallowed, but continued nevertheless. He had to find either civilization or, fresh water and food if he wanted to live past the day with enough sense to find a way out of this predicament. As difficult and harrowing as traversing the strange jungle was, he at least found some shelter from the sun and after an hour of wandering, his skin stopped burning. 

Suddenly, the ground beneath his feet shook with enough force that it nearly knocked him from his feet. Flames, the last thing he needed was to get caught up in some kind volcanic eruption. Once the ground stopped it’s shaking, he righted himself. Perhaps shelter should come first, in the event of another earthquake. He forced his way through another crop of trees and stopped as he found himself in a clearing. On the north edge, the jungle ended on the edge of a cliff and as he made his way to peer over the side, he saw rocky beach. To the left of the cliff, the mountain began in earnest. Vines grew haphazardly along the rock wall, and a few paces down he noticed the mouth of a cave. As long as nothing else called the cave home, Cullen knew it’d be a relatively safe place to camp overnight. 

He exhaled sharply and shrugged the waistcoat back on. Parting the vines, he stepped in through the cave. The cold air washed over him immediately like a healing wave of magic. He was cautious, each step carefully planned as he made his way through the cold, wet rock. His ears pricked up at he heard…splashing? There was water in the cave and if he were lucky, it would be fresh. Where there was fresh water, there was food. Unfortunately, fresh water usually meant predators as well. The passage twisted and turned until he wasn’t sure which direction he was headed and all the while the splashing grew ever louder. 

All at once, the cave deposited him in an open area. Cullen stopped, his eyes widening as he took in the enormous room. Above, light streamed in through a small opening and bathed the chamber in columns of pristine, white light. A large tree grew against the back wall, and Cullen was delighted to see red fruits hanging from its branches. The splashing sound intensified and as Cullen looked down he realized why: in the middle of the chamber was a pool of water and inside it, was a woman. 

He could see the back of her head, resting against the lip of the pool as she stretched her bare arms above her head. Maker’s _breath_ she was bathing, he realized. It was wrong to intrude, to watch but she was the only other person he’d seen thus far. His greeting died on his lips as he watched her stretch up, revealing her bare back. He felt his cheeks grow aflame, and made himself focus on her hair instead. It looked to be long, though it was tied into a knot on top of her head, while the sides and back of her head appeared to be closely shorn. An unusual style to be sure, but he was in or at least near, Rivain and there was no accounting for Rivaini tastes.

“Hello?” he called at last, his voice surprisingly steady. The woman gasped, whirling around and ducking below the lip until he could only see the knot of hair on top of her head. “I- I apologize, I don’t mean you any harm.” He watched as the bun shifted upwards enough so that part of her face was above the edge of the pool, though he was too far away to make out any features. “I just…woke up on shore. Please, can you tell me where I am?”

He watched that knot of brown hair turn to the side, but still the woman said nothing. Cullen supposed she was shy, or scared but he needed answers. He swallowed and took a step forward. He felt her eyes on him, but he noted that she didn’t move. He moved straight forward, so as not to appear as if he were trying to peep on her apparent nakedness. After several steps, he was finally close enough to make out her features. She definitely wasn’t Rivaini. The first thing he noticed was her eyes. They were blue-grey, but he could see specks of yellow amongst their depths. Looking into them he was transported home, back to Honnleath and summers with his family at Lake Calenhad. He felt his mouth fall open as those eyes pierced into him, and all he could do was stare back like a fool. A splash in the water broke his reverie. 

“I am sorry for intruding, I wouldn’t had I any other option,” he explained. Her head tilted inquisitively to one side as she studied him. “Do you… you can’t understand me, can you?”

Cullen sighed, his hand reaching up to rub at the back of his neck. Not knowing what else to do, he approached the tree at the back of the chamber and plucked one of the small, red, oval-shaped fruits from a branch. A splash in the water alerted him and he looked back to see the woman shaking her head at the fruit in his hands. She reached up and pointed to another fruit on the same branch just a few inches away. Unlike the one in Cullen’s hand, it had opened up to reveal yellow fruit with black shining seeds. He dropped his first fruit and plucked the second one, cracking open the shell further. He pulled out one of the yellow, fleshy pods. He ran his fingers over the smooth black seed and plucked it from the fruit. He brought the black seed to his lips and just as he was about to pop it into his mouth, the woman cried:

“Stop! The black part is poisonous.”

He turned back to see her left arm was outstretched and reaching for him, the upper half of her body raised out of the pool and balanced on her right arm. She plunked back down into the water as he dropped the black seed on the ground. Instead, he held the yellow flesh out towards her. “Is this edible?”

She nodded and was apparently mute again. 

He popped the fruit into his mouth and chewed. He’d expected something sweet and soft, but instead was awarded with a texture that reminded him more closely of bread and the taste… well, it tasted like cheese. If he made it out of this situation alive, Cullen made a note to bring one of these fruits to his friend Alistair. He swallowed and knelt down near the edge of the pool. “Thank you.”

Again, she nodded. As silence fell between them, Cullen studied her face again. She had a small series of dots, scars he realized, orbiting her - well, _his_ \- left eye. She was pretty, though strange in both her behavior and this little _something_ about her he couldn’t quite place. His eyes trailed down her neck where he saw little wavy… scars, he supposed on either side of her neck. 

“I don’t suppose you can tell me where I am?” he tried again. At her continued silence, he sighed. “Well, thank you anyway.” He moved to rise to his feet. 

“I did not think you would survive the night.”

He jumped a little, having not expected her to speak. “What do you mean?”

“You were very nearly dead when I found you. I did what I could, but I was not hopeful. I am pleased you live.”

“So, it was you? You saved me.” At her nod, a smile broke out on Cullen’s face. “Thank you, it appears you’ve saved my life twice-over. How did you pull me from the water?”

The water shifted behind her and Cullen watched, his eyes widening as a large tail suddenly rose from the water and curled behind her. His eyes snapped back and forth from the tail to her face as he realized, dumbly, that the tail was the same blue-grey as her eyes. Next, his mind finally connected that the tail and the woman were _attached_. 

“You… you’re a- I mean, you’re- you-” he struggled. “Andraste’s _ass_ you’re a mermaid.”

Every self-respecting sailor in Thedas knew the legends surrounding mermaids. They were either beautiful sirens attempting to lure men to their deaths or elusive guardians of the seas who saved those who were pure of heart from drowning. Cullen had never imagined that he’d ever find himself face to face with one. Though he wasn’t superstitious man, he always wore two necklaces under his shirt; one was the sword of mercy and the other, a pendant of aquamarine. Legends said that the beautiful gem was made from the tears of mermaids and would protect sailors from harm. 

In Cullen’s home of Fereldan, mermaids were often the harbingers of bad storms or the sign that your ship was doomed. In the Marches, however, he’d heard tale of mermaids that guided ships through troubled waters and kept them from running aground on reefs. Antiva had tales of mermaids who used their siren’s voice to lure men into the water, where they’d drown them. Yet, the woman in front of me seemed to be more inquisitive than dangerous and, she claimed to have saved him. 

“You pulled me out of the water?”

She nodded, her tail curling and slapping against the surface of the water. 

“But, why?”

He noticed her tail glint and glimmer in the meager light and her scales seemed to shift in color in front of his eyes, turning into a tawny brown. Just as quickly as it appeared, however, she shivered and slapped her tail hard against the water and down into the depths below. 

“You have a kind heart,” she said softly.

“How could you possibly know that?”

Her tail curled up again, glistening as the water poured off of it in drops like little diamonds reflecting off the light overhead. “My kiss only works on those who are worthy, those whose hearts are pure.”

His brow furrowed. The tale of the mermaid’s kiss was an old one, and one told by sailors the world over. They said that a kiss from a mermaid could do many things: heal a broken heart, bewitch a man to ruin or even protect him from drowning. 

She inclined her head again. “Humans make such odd faces. Are you…upset with me?”

Truth be told, magic had always made Cullen a little nervous. He didn’t fear mages themselves, not like most sailors. Perhaps it was because he was descended from a long line of Templars, the former keepers of mages before they won the war to free themselves. Yet, healing magic had always been the one area of exception. It fasinated him to see flesh knit together again, as if no wound had ever occurred in the first place. “What does the kiss actually, ah, _do_?”

The mermaid thought for a moment before she curled her tail back up and out of the water. “It… protects humans, it… heals them and does other things.”

“Like healing magic? What other things?”

“Mah-jick? That is the human word?”

“The hum- you mean we don’t speak the same language?”

She ducked her head away from his gaze, suddenly sheepish. “One of the effects of the kiss,” she explained. “We can both understand each other. In my… _eee-ers_ you are speaking Human but in my mind, it is Mer. You only hear Human, I think? Some words will not translate very well, like Mah-jick.”

Cullen shook his head, utterly astonished. “Okay, what is your word for magic?” The mermaid clicked her tongue and whistled three short sounds as Cullen watched on, his eyes widening. “And that’s…how mermaids speak?”

“Mer,” she corrected. “We are called Mer, it is our language and who are. Not all Mer are female. Humans have many different varieties from what I have seen. There are ones that look like you, then there are humans with horns and humans with pointed ears and small humans with hair on their chins.”

Cullen chuckled. “Technically, those other ones aren’t human. Those are Qunari, Elves and Dwarves, respectively.”

“Oh, that is…unexpected.” She dropped her head and looked away for a moment. “I shall need to tell my clan this information.”

“Your clan?”

“We Mer are born into clans based upon our spawn point. I follow Irving, the leader of my clan; we’re from the warm waters. What clan are you?”

“I’m, well I’m from Ferelden”

“Fer-el-dan,” she repeated. “Where is that?”

His legs began to ache, so Cullen took a seat, positioning himself so he was sitting cross-legged at the edge of the pool. “It’s southwest of here. D’you know how the sea goes south, then cuts inland?”

“Yes, those are the waters I was born in. We call it [ **click, click-click, whistle, click** ], it’s um, the place where the Humans have the two giant humans that never move?”

“Oh!” he exclaimed. “That’s Kirkwall, or _we_ call it Kirkwall. Fereldan is the south coast from there.”

“I have been there, though there are so many… those giant boxes Humans ride on the water?”

“Ships,” he explained.

“Sh-ips,” she said carefully. “And you were on one.”

“Yes, I was a privateer…until my crew mutinied and put me overboard in a rowboat.”

“So they were trying to kill you?”

Cullen nodded, scratching his chin where his beard had just stared to prick through. “You know I just realized that I don’t even know your name.”

She smiled and Cullen saw her tail glimmer and shift color again before she dunked it back into the water. “I am Rhian. What are you called?”

“Cullen; Captain Cullen,” he held out his hand for her to shake. 

She stared at it, her eyes darting back and forth between his face and his palm. “It is empty.”

“Sorry; we, ah, shake our hands when we meet knew people. Humans, I mean.”

Biting her lip a little, Rhian lifted her hand from the edge of the pool and held it out in front of her before shaking it back and forth. “Humans have…strange customs.”

In spite of himself, Cullen laughed. “No, I mean… here, give me your hand.”

The moment their hands touched, Cullen felt a tremor pass through him. It was soft, subtle but with an edge, like lightning caressing his veins from the inside out. As he looked down on Rhian’s wide eyes and gently parted lips, he knew she’d felt the same thing. 

“The kiss, it…creates a bond.”

“What kind of bond?”

Rhian hesitated. “It is an exchange. I gave you my ability to breathe underwater and healed your wounds.”

“But what did I give you?”

She looked away before she sighed and dipped her right hand in the water below her. Cullen watched, his brows rising in confusion. After a moment, Rhian lifted her hand and Cullen felt the breath leave him. Her right hand - still dripping - was now slick, as if the skin itself had changed. She wriggled her fingers in front of him and he saw that her three middle fingers were webbed just to the first knuckle. She raised her left hand, which was as human-looking as Cullen’s, for comparison. 

“I- I don’t understand.”

Behind her, the blue-grey scales on her tail glimmered before they turned dark and coppery brown. After a moment, Cullen realized that parts of her scales were turning into skin. The shade on her tail matched her arms and shoulders. 

“When the scales on my tail are dry, I will have legs. I will have human legs.”

“For how long?”

“Until they are wet again.” Upon seeing Cullen open his mouth, she quickly added, “or until the bond breaks. I- I don’t know how long the bond lasts. This is old magic. No one of my clan as used it for a century or more.”

“What do you know about it?”

“Irving taught me that it heals humans, protects them from drowning. But, our legends say that the magic was first used by Mer who loved humans and wished for them to come and live with us. That’s just an old matron’s tale, though.”

Cullen looked at the water warily. “If I stick my legs in, will I-”

“No,” she answered quickly. “You would have woken up with a tail, if that were the case.”

“Ah.” Silence fell between them as Cullen looked about the cavern. He picked up one of the fruits from before and held it up for Rhian to see. “What do you call this?”

“Ackee. We collect them from the shore and eat them with fish.”

Cullen’s mind seemed stagnant and dulled, as if he’d simply reached his threshold for processing new and outlandish things. His gaze drifted back to the girl in the pool of water who still studied him with those eyes that reminded him of home. He’d seen a lot of things in his years at sea. There had been uncharted islands filled with exotic fruits, wary locals and animals he’d never imagined. He’d seen the effects of displeasing the Maker, who’d punished them by taking away the ocean’s breeze for three solid days of Void-damned horror. The _Sword of Mercy_ herself had been to the very edges of every charted map and seen how much more of the world was out there, waiting for those brave enough to explore. He’d spent night after night drinking barrel-dark rum with aged and salt-withered sailors telling tales of the sea and its mysteries. Never, in his wildest dreams did he imagine seeing one of those tall tales in person. 

It occurred to him suddenly, like being knocked over the head with a brick that no one would ever hear of this encounter unless he could make it off of this island. 

“Rhian, do you know where the closest city is? A place where I can find other humans?”

She thought for a moment. “We are near the land with the horned Humans.”

“Qunari. So, we’re on one of the islands outside of Par Vollen? I could get to the mainland I could take ship to Rivain and on to anywhere from there.” He climbed to his feet, brushing the cave dirt off of his breeches. “Do you know of anything around here I could use as a raft or a boat?”

Rhian shook her head, watching him move around the cavern. Suddenly, the thought that he might never see Rhian filled his head like a dark hand curling through his mind, and all at once the hand clenched. He felt true dread pass through him, as if he could never again imagine himself living without her. It had to be part of the bond. “You should come with me.”

“Come with you?”

“Yes. I, ah, find that I can’t bear the thought of leaving your side.”

She looked away from him, barely guarded emotions drifting across her features. Was he being a fool, asking her to come along? For Maker’s sake she was a mermaid and if the Chantry had a difficult enough time with the Qunari, Cullen could only imagine how they’d feel about Rhian. 

“I, yes, I feel the same. It must be part of the bond.” She looked down at her arms, her face etched with sadness. “I am sorry, I know so little about the bond but I… couldn’t let you drown.”

“You hardly know me,” he answered softly. 

“I watched you. I watch a lot of humans, but your sh-ip I followed for a long time. You seemed kinder than most.” She looked down again, as if weighing her thoughts before she looked up again. “All right. I’ll go with you. I’ve always wanted to explore the human world and with you as a guide, it should be safe.” She paused, looking around the cavern again. “I’ve never walked on human legs, will you help me?”

She held her arms up to him and he grasped her by the elbow. His left leg slid behind him to brace as she pulled herself up and out of the water. Her tail slapped helplessly against the cave floor as the majority of her weight settled into his arms. He held her close, trying not to notice that she was bare from the waist up and so, so close to him. A glint in the light caught his attention and he looked down to see her drying scales transforming from blue-grey to the same copper tawny of her skin. The delicate parts at the tip of her tail had turned into long, elegant feet and before long, there was no trace of scales on her body. She shivered in his arms. 

“You want to try to stand?”

Rhian nodded and he slipped his hands around her shoulders - keeping his eyes firmly attached to her face - and guided her into putting weight on her feet. She wobbled, her knees buckling a little but ultimately was able to stand without much incident. 

“Here,” he said as he let go of her, slowly to make sure she remained steady. “You should, ah, cover.”

He shrugged his waistcoat off, letting it fall to the ground before he looked away, cheeks reddening as he lifted his shirt up and over his head. He handed it to her, but kept his eyes averted as she slipped the shirt on. 

“Is this better?”

Cullen looked over at her to see that his shirt hit his mid-thigh. It wasn’t perfect, but it would do until they could get some better clothes. An idea hit him. “Wait,” he untied the sash at his waist and carefully looped it around hers, tying it off into a belt for her. “There. We should try walking next.”

Walking, of course, was a challenge at first. Rhian struggled mostly with the idea of moving each of her new legs independently of the other. Still, the principle was mastered quickly. Cullen led her out of the cave, his hand hovering behind her back, but not quite touching her, to give her the room to feel confident in her moves without his getting in her way. Once out of the cave, she marveled at the chance to see the green leaves and fronds of the jungle up close. She held a wide green leaf in her hand, fingers running delicately over the veins. 

“This is beautiful,” she murmured to herself. 

He let her take her time, a smile drawing over his features as he watched her face change from curiosity to wonder over and over again with each new discovery of the surface world. 

“I’ve seen all of these things far away, from the water’s edge but I’d always wondered…always wanted to see what they looked like up close.”

They made their way to the beach and Rhian delighted in wiggling sand between her toes. She explored the beach while he looked for a raft, picking up shells and gently nudging small crabs back into the water. Finally, he found a piece of a ship, washed ashore. It was a piece of decking, of that he was certain. He tested it on the water, and it proved seaworthy. Next, he’d have to find some sort of paddle to push the raft into Par Vollen. From behind him, he heard the rustle of fabric and looked to see that Rhian was undressing. 

“What are you doing?”

“I can swim us to the land of the horned Humans. It would take too long otherwise. Once we’re in range, I’ll climb aboard the raft again.”

Cullen opened his mouth to argue, but realized quickly there was little point. Rhian was right. Without her pushing the raft along, they were relying on the tide and currents to carry them to their destination. It was too big of a risk. He averted his eyes as she handed him the shirt and sash. She hissed a little as the water kissed her toes. 

“Does it hurt?”

“No,” she replied through her teeth as she edged further and further into the water. “It’s cold”

She dove under the surf and popped back up a moment later. “Climb on.”

* * *

It was a few hours voyage to Par Vollen. Rhian kept her head down, gently guiding the raft through the currents and kept it away from large swells that could soak him or knock him from the plank of wood. Once Cullen spotted land, he knocked on the raft and Rhian’s head popped up a moment later. 

With land in sight, she climbed on top of the raft, leaving her fin dangling in the water as she pulled Cullen’s shirt over her head and tied the sash. She continued to kick the raft forward until a fishing boat saw them and hailed. 

They were picked up by a crew of Qunari fisherwomen and given fresh water for their parched throats. Cullen made up a story that the two of them were married and on a trip to see Par Vollen for their honeymoon when pirates had attacked their ship and as they looked over to Rhian for a response, he remembered that he was the only one who could understand her and quickly added that she was mute. The Qunari didn’t question, for which Cullen was eternally grateful, as any explanation for why his ‘wife’ was sans proper clothes would have been difficult. And, blessedly enough, the women did not try and force communication with Rhian. Instead, the women were kind - a trait Cullen had not expected to find in Qunari, as his last encounter included one very angry Arishok in Kirkwall - and promised to take them to Par Vollen and give them enough gold to book passage back home. One of the women even gave Rhian a spare garment, though the dress was much too large for Rhian’s slight frame. A little bit of pinning with some spare fishhooks and Cullen’s sash, however, fixed the frock right up. The mermaid spent the voyage glued to the rail, dividing her time between watching the sea drift by below her and watching the city grow near. 

“What do you think of ships now that you’ve been on one?”

“Incredible,” she said, not turning to look at him. After a moment, she shivered in the sea breeze and looked back to him. “And you…live on a ship?”

Cullen stepped up to the railing so that they were standing shoulder to shoulder. It felt _right_ , the way their bodies touched; it felt as if they were always meant to. “When I was a lad in Honnleath, I wanted to be a soldier like in the tales. I always admired the stories of the early Templars, like Ser Barris who were bastions of the Maker’s light. I wanted to be just like them.”

“What happened?” she whispered, the ocean air carrying her soft voice to his ears. 

“Absolute power corrupts absolutely,” he said cryptically. He sighed. “These Templars were given absolute power over Mages, the humans who perform magic, and with that level of faith and power given to a single group…it was abused. This was all centuries ago, but the Mages rebelled and the Templars sins became known. When public opinion swayed, the Templars were disbanded.”

“But why put someone in charges of Mages?”

“That is a long story and its rather moot. Mages have been free since the Dragon Age, almost six-hundred years.” Cullen drummed his fingers on the railing absent-mindedly. “I decided the next best thing was to become a sailor. I apprenticed in the Fereldan Navy until I had scrapped enough wages together to buy my own ship.”

“The ship you lost?”

Cullen laughed. “Maker, no. My first ship was a worn-down, old cutter named _The Persephone_. When the Chantry sent out a call for commissions on the sea, I accepted.”

“What does that mean?”

“The Chantry issued me a Letter of Marque, which authorized me to attack and plunder any enemies of the Divine. I got my first big score when I managed to take down a Dwarven ironclad smuggling lyrium with _The Persephone_. She was nearly scuttled in the fight, but we made it out on top.” At Rhian’s confused face, Cullen added, “An ironclad is a huge ship made entirely of metal. It, ah, basically runs on fire and is nearly impossible to take out.”

She smiled at him. “Your face lights up when you speak about ships and the sea. You really love it, don’t you?”

“There’s nothing like it in the world.”

“When I’m in the water and I catch a current and I can feel the force of the water pushing me forward, strong enough so that all I have to do is follow it… I think I understand. Sometimes I let the currents carry me all the way out to the deepest parts of the sea, where the sun breaks through in beams of light and the shines off the scales of the fish in thousands of colors.”

Cullen caught himself staring at her, feeling his cheeks grow hot. She was beautiful, there was no doubt; yet, the way she spoke and the passion she so clearly felt for the sea drew him in. It was funny, really, that they both loved the vast and chaotic sea, though from two entirely different angles. 

* * *

The sight of the docks alone nearly made the mermaid’s eyes bulge out of her head. She wandered along the wooden path, studying each ship individually as they passed. At every new vessel, she’d stop and ask Cullen about them. Centuries of bad blood, reaching all the way back to the Dragon Age and earlier meant that Rivain was one of the only nations in Thedas that had free trade and passage with the Qunari. Rivain was considered heretical by the Chantry, but the nation had managed to maintain the bare minimum of civilities, which ensured that ships could pass freely between Andrastrian nations and Rivain. While Rhian marveled at the ships, none of which were actually Qunari as Par Vollen had a separate dock for foreigners, Cullen managed to find passage on a ship bound for Rivain. 

Their ship, _The Siren’s Call_ , was a beautiful frigate captained by a Rivaini woman named Isabela. She took an immediate shine to Rhian, especially after Cullen repeated the lie about being attacked. She flirted heavily with the both of them, even though Cullen had stated they were married but she followed every coy suggestion with a hearty laugh, so he was never quite certain of she was serious or jesting. 

There were a few other passengers on board _The Siren’s Call_ : like the scholar from Antiva, who said he’d gone to Par Vollen to study the Qunari’s reverence of dragons; a merchant from Rivain, who had accompanied her shipment of silk to expand her contacts; an elf, who’d gone to Par Vollen to join the Qun but found he didn’t have the willpower for it; and a man that Cullen could only assume was a nefarious sort. The man claimed to be a hunter of exotic goods and that he’d gone to Par Vollen in search of treasures for his clients. His manner put Cullen on edge and the way he eyed Rhian set his blood aflame. 

At dinner the first night, Captain Isabela sat at the head of the table in the small cabin that served as the mess. She called out greetings to each person who entered until the all of the passengers, the quartermaster and the first mate had arrived. The first mate, Hayder, sat at Isabela’s right and by sheer happenstance, Rhian wound up perched at the Captain’s left. The Captain wore a great hat on her head, full of plumage and Cullen watched as Rhian’s fingers instinctively reached to touch the white feathers. When she drew her fingers back sharply, Isabela’s face shifted from the confident smirk she seemed to always wear to a genuinely kind smile. 

“It’s all right, Sweetness, go ahead and touch.” Rhian grinned and drifted her fingers across the soft feathers, blue-grey eyes wide. All at once, Isabela picked up the hat and plunked it down on Rhian’s head before she winked at Cullen. “You best watch yourself; we’ll make a pirate out of your wife, yet.”

Cullen and Isabela laughed together as Rhian watched them, fingers still stroking the feathers. Isabela picked up her mug and took a great swig before she slammed it down. “You’re a sailor, aren’t you?”

He blinked. “I am. How did you know?”

Isabela smirked like the proverbial cat with the canary. “You can always tell a man of the sea. Did you lose your sea legs when you got married?”

He opened his mouth to tell her about the mutiny and he already had half a mind to ask her if she’d seen _The Sword of Mercy_ recently, but Rhian’s movements out of the corner of his eye stopped him. He didn’t know Isabela at all, didn’t know how far she’d go to make coin. The wrong words said at the wrong time could very well spell death or worse for Rhian. “Something like that.”

She didn’t look entirely convinced, but didn’t press. Instead she watched Rhian for a minute before looking back at Cullen. “Your wife doesn’t say much.”

Cullen swallowed. “She is mute.”

The Captain inclined her head, eyes narrowing. Cullen felt himself grow hot under her studious gaze. Suddenly, under the table he felt Rhian’s hand slip into his. He jumped, immediately looking to her and in return she gave his palm a tight squeeze and a comforting smile. Isabela watched the exchange, one eyebrow cocked high. After a moment whatever thought seemed to go through her head faded and she took another draw on her mug. 

“All right there, Curly. If you’re truly a sailor, then sing us a rope. A Fereldan classic,” she said just loud enough to cut over the din of all other conversations.

Cullen blanched, but feared that if he didn’t obey then the Captain would have more pressing questions about Rhian and himself. So, he picked up the mug in front of him and drained it of the bitter ship’s wine. When she said she wanted a classic Fereldan rope, only one song came to mind:

_“Farewell an’ adieu to you fair Nevarran ladies,_  
Farewell an’ adieu to you ladies of Antiva,  
For we’ve received orders for to sail for old Ferelden,  
An’ hope very shortly to see you again.  
We’ll rant an’ we’ll roar, like true Fereldan sailors,  
We’ll rant an’ we’ll rave across the salt seas,  
‘Till we strike soundings in The Waking Sea,  
From Gwaren to Kirkwall is thirty-four leagues.” 

The shanty settled into the air comfortably, and it flowed sweetly from Cullen’s tongue. He’d sung the words so many times it was like a lullaby. The quartermaster, apparently a Fereldan himself, joined in:  
_“We hove our ship to, with the wind at sou’west, boys,_  
We hove our ship to for to take soundings clear.  
In fifty-five fathoms with a fine sandy bottom,  
We filled our maintops’l, up the sea did steer.

_We’ll rant an’ we’ll roar, like true Fereldan sailors,_  
We’ll rant an’ we’ll rave across the salt seas,  
‘Till we strike soundings in The Waking Sea,  
From Gwaren to Kirkwall is thirty-four leagues. 

_The first land we made was a point called Llomerryn,_  
Next Salle off th’Marches, Wycome and Markam.  
We sailed then by East’Watch, by Alamar and Brandel’s Reach,  
Then bore straight away for the Highever Light. 

_We’ll rant an’ we’ll roar, like true Fereldan sailors,_  
We’ll rant an’ we’ll rave across the salt seas,  
‘Till we strike soundings in The Waking Sea,  
From Gwaren to Kirkwall is thirty-four leagues. 

_Now the signal was made for the Grand Fleet to anchor,_  
We clewed up our tops’ls, stuck out tacks and sheets.  
We stood by our stoppers, we brailed in our spankers,  
And anchored ahead of the noblest of fleets.  
Let every man here drink up his full bumper,  
Let every man here drink up his full bowl,  
And let us be jolly and drown melancholy,  
Drink a health to each jovial an’ true-hearted soul. 

_We’ll rant an’ we’ll roar, like true Fereldan sailors,_  
We’ll rant an’ we’ll rave across the salt seas,  
‘Till we strike soundings in The Waking Sea,  
From Gwaren to Kirkwall is thirty-four leagues.” 

After he finished, Cullen stared at the table as silence continued to fill the room. He felt Rhian’s hand squeeze his and as he looked over to her, he saw she had tears in her eyes. 

“Typical Fereldan,” Isabela said at last, though her voice held none of the snark her words implied. “Sound more like a dirge than a shanty.” She leaned across the table on her elbows, smirking. “We’ll teach you something proper and jaunty before we get to Rivain.” 

* * *

The journey was uneventful for the first few days. On the third, however, a hurricane rolled in. Immediately, Cullen was reminded of the storm during the mutiny of his ship. Rain pelted the deck and flooded parts of the ship. The sea was rocky and unforgiving as the ship pitched up and down with each rolling wave. Lightning arced overhead as thunder screamed loud enough that Rhian had to cover her ears. Fearing discovery, the mermaid huddled inside the ship’s lower deck where it was still dry and waited for the rain to pass. Cullen stayed with her until a cry went up:

_“Man Overboard!”_

He squeezed Rhian’s shoulder before he charged up the stairs to see who had been lost. Over the din of the storm, he heard Isabela shouting:

“Damn it! I told him to stay away from the railing.”

“Captain, what should we do?”

“You’ve got eyes, Darrow. He’s lost, barring some kind of miracle.”

Cullen cupped his hands over his mouth to shout to Isabela: “Captain, who fell?”

“That treasure hunter, Tigh.”

He shook his head and turned, not wanting to distract the Captain any further. As he clambered back down the stairs into the lower deck, Cullen realized suddenly that Rhian was gone. He called her name, but there was no answer. Panicking, he searched the deck; he looked behind, under and in any objects that could ostensibly hide the mermaid, but she was gone. Suddenly, the noise on the deck amplified over the storm. 

“Andraste’s tits!” he heard Isabela swear. “Throw that man a rope and get him back on deck. Move your arses, lads, I’ll not lose another passenger!”

Cullen ran up the stairs in time to see the crew struggling with the rope. He ran to their aid, picking up the end of the rope and hauling with all of his might to get Tigh back up on board. 

“Andraste’s _ass_ ,” the treasure hunter croaked, coughing up seawater. “I thought I was dead for sure.”

“So did we,” Isabela quipped. “How did you swim back to the ship?”

“You won’t believe me, but it was a Maker-damned mermaid!”

Cullen blanched while most of the crew guffawed and Tigh was clapped on the back. It seemed that Rhian had taken it upon herself to rescue the man, but of course couldn’t make it back on board without being discovered. Another wave hit the ship and pitched it sharply to the side, prompting Isabela to yell at her men to get back to work. She yelled at Cullen too, telling him to take Tigh below deck to recover. Cullen obliged and helped the man navigate the stairs down tot he lower deck. As he reached the passenger quarters, Cullen turned to him:

“Are you sure it was a mermaid? Perhaps it was just your imagination.”

“Flames, I know what I saw. I have half a mind to tie a rope around my waist and jump back in to catch it. Can you imagine how much coin a mermaid would be worth? Alive or dead, I’d be a rich man.”

Cullen tried to tell the man again that mermaids weren’t real, but Tigh just shrugged him off. Instead, the treasure hunter vowed to be back up on deck after the storm died down to see if he could get another glimpse of the mermaid. 

Later that evening, after the storm had died down and only a skeleton crew remained on duty, Cullen made his way to the deck and peered over the railing. Luckily, the storm had cleared away the clouds and left the sea bright and shining with the light of the moon. He spotted Rhian easily, swimming carefully alongside the ship. Cullen threw a rope overboard and once Rhian grabbed a hold, he quickly pulled her back on board the ship and hid with her behind the water barrels until her tail had dried back into her legs. 

“That was risky,” he said quietly, unable to meet her gaze.

“I did what must be done, I couldn’t let a man die when I had the power to save him.”

 _The sea was too rough_ , he wanted to say. _You could have been swept under the keel_ ; _I could have lost you._

The words died in Cullen’s mouth. Instead, he stood and retrieved her dress, once again averting his eyes from her form. Together, the two of them snuck back below deck and all Cullen could do was hope that Tigh would forget all about his encounter with the mermaid. 

It was not to be so; at breakfast, Cullen and Rhian entered the small mess and were immediately greeted by Tigh’s enthusiastic shouting:

“Aye, she was naked as a baby when she swam up to me! And she looked at me as if _I_ was the strange one before she grabbed me by the waist and pushed me t’wards the ship.”

Rhian and Cullen eyed each other fearfully. Whether it was part of the bond, or due to their developing friendship, the two moved in sync to conceal Rhian from Tigh’s gaze. Rhian stood behind Cullen, keeping her head ducked as he gathered their morning rations. They sat behind Tigh to eat, with Cullen blocking most of Rhian’s body from view. They each ate silently, only stealing glances at each other every so often. 

After several tense minutes, Tigh stood from his table and moved as if he was leaving the mess. Cullen felt himself breathe a sigh of relief, but it was short lived. A moment later, a heavy hand clapped Cullen on the back. 

“What do you think, meh boy?” he asked Cullen. 

“About?” Cullen replied evenly. 

“My plan to capture the mermaid! Living would mean more coin, but dead carries more prestige!” As Cullen opened his mouth to ask the man to leave them alone, Tigh’s eyes drifted away from Cullen and across the table to Rhian. Suddenly, the man’s entire demeanor changed from raucous to deadly serious. “Say, you look familiar.”

“I’ll thank you not to speak to my wife. Sea travel makes her nervous enough without you scaring her with tales.”

Tigh’s glare slid between Cullen and Rhian again, and again as if he were trying to puzzle them out. It didn’t really matter; Cullen had faced his ilk before. He hadn’t wound up Captain of his own ship by playing the shrinking violet. Finally, Tigh harrumphed and muttered, “I’ll be seeing you around.” He kept his eyes glued on to Rhian. 

From that point on, everywhere that Cullen and Rhian went to on the ship, Tigh followed. When they took a stroll on the deck, Tigh was there. When they ate their meals, Tigh was there. He was always watching Rhian, always staring at her as if she might, well, turn into a mermaid Cullen supposed. The only time the two of them didn’t feel hounded by the treasure hunter was at night, when they’d wake up at the same time amidst the snoring of the other passengers in the guest quarters. Whether it was some kind of intuition or the bond, their hands would find each other in the dark and squeeze. After the storm, Cullen awoke to Rhian nesting herself against his chest. Her soft lips met the underside of his chin and she sighed happily as he drew his arms around her to pull her in closer.

* * *

The excitement of seeing a new Human city seemed to outweigh any and all anxiety Rhian had felt towards Tigh’s suspicions. She hung around the rail, watching the port of Dairsmuid grow closer and closer. Cullen left her at the railing to go and speak to Isabela about where they could find passage out of Rivain. Since he first set foot on to a ship, Cullen had lost any sense ‘home’ beyond his childhood home in Honnleath. The only thing that had ever been _his_ had been _The Sword of Mercy_ and Maker only knew where that ship had gone. He thought to show Rhian Kirkwall, as it was apparently her home and Cullen had lived there for many years. Still, its gloomy Tevene-inspired buildings held few good memories. There was always Ferelden and he supposed he could take her to Honnleath. Or, better yet, he could take her to Lake Calenhad and show her how her eyes sparkled like the lake after a storm. 

The sound of Rhian grunting and crying out broke Cullen’s reverie and he turned to see that Tigh had approached Rhian in his absence. “Hey!” he called. 

“Tell me why you look just like that thing that saved me. Huh? It had that little knot on top of its head, just like you. Ain’t never seen another woman with hair like that.”

Cullen pushed himself between Rhian and Tigh, glaring the hunter down. Tigh, to his credit, snarled but backed off. As he slunk away, Cullen turned towards Rhian. “Are you all right?”

“Yes,” she breathed. “Are all humans as dogged as he? I can see why my kind steers clear.”

“The man’s a huckster and he smells gold in the air,” he reached across the gap between them to grasp her shoulder, not acknowledging to himself just how right it felt to touch her. “We’ll lose him in Dairsmuid, don’t worry.”

* * *

Dairsmund was gloomy as they docked. Cullen could tell that Rhian’s excitement for seeing a new human city was tempered in equal measures by fear of the sky opening up. As they disembarked _The Siren’s Call_ , Captain Isabela called out to them:

“Oi! You feel like getting your sea legs back, Curly and I’ll give you a spot on my ship. You can even bring your pretty wife!”

She laughed heartily and waved them off before returning to her crew. Over the din of the harbor’s clamor, he could just faintly make out her warning her crew to not cause as much trouble as ‘last time’. 

Rhian slipping her hand into his pulled his attention back to the city in front of them. Once upon a time, Dairsmund had been a haven for any sort who fancied themselves an outcast of the Chantry, but not so extreme to think of themselves as an enemy. After the annulment of the Circle during the Dragon Age, Rivain - which had never considered itself actually Andrastrian - had essentially cut itself off as part of the Andrastrian nations. While the Divine and Orlais dithered on whether or not to send an Exalted March, Rivain had responded by bolstering its defenses. The Queen parleyed with the leaders of the Raiders of the Waking Sea and convinced them to pillage and plunder in the name of their homeland, effectively becoming the largest naval force Thedas had ever seen. The Divine sent ships to Rivain, full of soldiers intent on razing the land in the name of the Maker, but the raiders stopped each frigate, each ship of the line that the Divine sent. Hundreds of men were captured, more were sent to the watery depths and every ship was scuttled. The Divine had no choice but to call off the march. Now, Dairsmund was home to free Mages, Riviani Seers and a few pockets of Dalish that lived as equals amongst the humans.

They had just enough coin left to find a place to stay in Rivain for a night or two, but Cullen would have to find some sort of temporary employment if he intended to truly show Rhian the Human world. 

Just off the docks was the industrial district. The air was thick with the stench of small factories cutting fish caught that day and with the acrid aroma of fermentation seeping out of the brew house’s cracked windows. The world seemed to rumble with the sounds of carts and wagons being steered over rough cobblestones, combined with the constant din of workers yelling back and forth at each other on the docks. Every so often the breeze would pick up, washing the area with salt and ruffling Cullen’s hair. 

“I can’t,” Rhian struggled, her voice cutting through Cullen’s thoughts. “I could always stick my head out of the sea and watch. But, _being here_. This is incredible. I just can’t understand how there’s just so _much_ of everything. The buildings just rise so high and…the sky, there’s so much sky. How do Humans stand it?”

“To us, the ocean is deep and impenetrable. There’s so much down there that we cannot even imagine and yet to you, it’s just your home.”

She exhaled, a quick puff of breath the inflated her cheeks. “I suppose so. It is all relative.” 

They walked along the front street, peering in as many windows as they could. As they traveled, however, Cullen noticed a shift in Rhian’s demeanor. Her brow furrowed and she walked with her arms across herself. Her steps slowed and her smile had dimmed. They took a rest on the edge of a pier, gazing out over the ocean. The sea air was brisk and strong enough that Cullen could close his eyes and almost imagine himself back on board his ship. Rhian shivered and without thinking, Cullen slung his arm around her shoulders. “Are you cold?” She looked up at him, his cheeks pinked and certainly complimenting his own, which he was sure had turned Templar red. At her nod, he rubbed her arm and said, “Let’s go and get you warm.”

They made their way through the grimy streets of Dairsmund’s labor district, searching for a tavern they could rest in. As they walked, however, Cullen found that he just couldn’t quite shake the feeling that he was being watched.

* * *

They found a tavern just as the first few drops of rain began to fall. The Sea Witch, it was called, though Cullen wasn’t sure why. And, it didn’t really matter as long as they had a warm fire and a kitchen that they could order a meal from. They perched themselves in front of the fire, Rhian still shivering. He reached across to squeeze her hand, which rested on the worn, wooden table in front of her. 

“Wait here, I’ll get us some food and drink.”

She nodded reassuringly and though she was obviously cold, still smiled at him. He wished he could ask her what was wrong, but the risk of someone overhearing her was too great. He approached the counter where the tavern keeper was slinging ale. 

“Well met, young man,” he said to Cullen, nodding his head. “What can I get’cha this eve?”

“Ale for me and…do you have something warm for my companion, she’s chilled?” he asked, gesturing over his shoulder towards Rhian.

The other man followed Cullen’s gesture with his eyes to the table where the mermaid still sat, shivering. “Aye, we’ve got some mulled wine my wife brews. It’s warm and hearty.”

“Thank you.”

The tavern keeper hollered over his shoulder, “oi, woman! We need a mug of yer wine, nice and hot!”

“I’m not deaf, ya old goat!” came a shrill answer from the kitchen. A moment later a grey-headed lady poked her head out. “If his lady friend is cold then fetch her a blanket, you half-wit.” Her gaze slid to Cullen and her demeanor immediately changed. “I’ll have that mug of wine for you in just a moment, dear.”

The tavern keeper chuckled heartily and passed Cullen a blanket over the counter. He thanked the two of them with a smile and as much politeness as he could manage before he slunk away from the odd, but obviously loving couple. The blanket was made of thick wool, but wasn’t overly scratchy and, despite being in a tavern, smelled fresh. He unfurled it and spread it over Rhian’s legs as she curled herself underneath the top portion. Cullen returned to his seat opposite of her and rested on his elbows. 

“Are you all right?” he asked softly. 

“I…I feel very strange,” she said softly. 

The wine and ale appeared a moment later, brought by the tavern keeper’s wife. She cooed a little over Rhian, admiring her hair and whispering soothingly that if she needed something to just let her know. When Cullen opened his mouth to explain that Rhian wouldn’t answer, the woman pinched his cheek and effectively silence him in shock.

“If I were twenty years younger,” she sighed wistfully as she walked away. 

Cullen let out a nervous laugh as she disappeared but as he turned back to Rhian he saw she was gripping her mug in white knuckled hands. 

“Rhian?”

She looked up at him, her eyes tired and strained. “I…I think the bond…dying.”

“What does that mean?”

“I…I won’t be able to be outside of the water. It will…hurt, a lot.”

Cullen’s eyes widened and he ran a hand through his hair. “Isn’t there something we can do? Maybe another kiss? It could reestablish the bond.”

Her face reddened. “Cullen, I-” her words were cut off by a shrill whistle in Cullen’s ears. He grimaced and threw his hands over his ears. 

“Flames!” he cursed. 

“You’re losing the ability to understand me,” she whispered, her eyes glassy. 

He leaned sharply over the table and cupped her cheek in his hand. As his thumb stroked her cheek, a tear erupted from her eye. It was a bright aquamarine color and he quickly brushed it to the side. He looked into her eyes, their faces a hair’s distance apart. 

“Do you…want to try?”

As if unable to speak, Rhian nodded. Cullen leaned forward just a touch more as Rhian pushed up to meet him. Their lips pressed together, all gentle sweetness. Cullen’s heart raced as he realized kissing her was the culmination and satisfaction of a desire he hadn’t permitted himself to feel. He cupped her other cheek with his hand, tilted his head and deepened the kiss. Rhian’s clammy hands gripped his forearms and as she sighed happily, he opened her lips with his. The kiss was wonderful, it was perfect…but, it wasn’t magic. 

A lighting sharp spark struck Cullen, spiking through his veins. The bond was only established by Mer who loved humans and it only lasted as long as was necessary. He realized, it only lasted until he loved Rhian in return. He gasped against her mouth and broke apart as Rhian groaned. A telltale thud hit the tavern floor underneath her blanket and her face turned white with horror. “Cullen,” she hissed fearfully, her eyes blown wide. 

His heart sank. It looked as if whatever magic had created the bond to begin was not only temporary, but also something that only happened once. He had to get Rhian out the tavern and somewhere safe and after that they could talk about that kiss and how it was one of the most extraordinary things Cullen had ever experienced. 

“It’s okay,” he murmured. He pressed his lips to her forehead before he jumped from his seat to check the blanket. Though he could barely see the outline and then, only because he was looking for it, the blanket would keep it hidden until he could devise a way out of the tavern. He patted her arm reassuringly as he hopped to the front door to check the world outside. The sun had started to set and the rain was still drizzling in earnest, but the streets looked empty. 

A shrill screech ripped his attention from the door and back to Rhian. He whirled around to see Tigh had a hold of Rhian’s arm and was trying to pull her into standing. Cullen rounded on the man, grabbing him by the shirt and hauling him off of her. As a last ditch effort, Tigh grabbed the blanket and pulled it as he fell. The brown wool fell away to reveal Rhian’s blue-grey tail sticking out from underneath her dress. There was an alarmed cry from the tavern guests and Cullen whirled in place, his eyes blown wide with panic as he took in all the shocked faces. 

“I knew it!” cried Tigh. “I fucking knew it. I’m going to be a rich man!”

Rhian held out her arms, as if to block Tigh from coming close, but it was unnecessary. Cullen stood between Tigh and Rhian, his face full of righteous thunder. “You will not come near her, not ever.”

Tigh smirked. “Any man who helps me kill this bastard and seize the mermaid’ll get a fair share of whatever coin we make from her.”

Wood screeched against wood as several men stood up to join Tigh. Cullen back into Rhian, shielding her body with his. His eyes darted around as he formulated a plan to get to safety. 

“Oi, son!” Cullen’s head snapped in the direction of the bar where the Tavern keeper had climbed on his counter. He had a sheathed cutlass in his hand. “Catch!”

The sword arced through the air and Cullen caught it easily. The sheathe went into Cullen’s leather belt as he drew the cutlass and swirled it through the air in front of the approaching men. The cutlass was finely balanced, and it sliced through the air beautifully. Tigh jumped back, cursing as the sword nearly caught his fingers. 

“Fine, if that’s how you want to play it.”

Tigh drew the sword from his hip and sliced it through the air once to loosen his arm. The tavern was close quarters and with all the people around, a fight was dangerous. But, Cullen saw no other choice. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the Tavern keeper’s wife approach Rhian. He almost whirled around then to stop her, but as she slid her arms protectively around Rhian, Cullen exhaled with relief. Cullen stepped away from the mermaid, so that he was standing in a line with the widest part of the tavern. He tilted his head from side to side, loosening up his neck as he lifted the cutlass to hold it I front of him with the blade pointed down and the guard up. Tigh licked his teeth and spat on the wood floor. He moved to stand in front of Cullen and raised his own cutlass, blade pointed up. 

“I saw you kissing the little bint,” he said, his tone decidedly lecherous. “I wonder how yer little fish will like me cuttin’ you down in front of her.”

Cullen narrowed his eyes further. “Why are you doing this?”

“Coin, you bloody fool. The Carta’s got me by my arse hairs. And don’t you bother trying to talk me out of this. That little fish over there is the first bit o’opportunity I’ve had come me way in ages.”

“I suppose it doesn’t matter that she saved you from drowning.”

He laughed. “Not a damn bit.”

“I didn’t think so,” Cullen spared one final glance at Rhian, who was still perched on the stool and looking equal parts horrified and angry. Her nails scraped against the wood table, as if she longed claw Tigh’s face and perhaps she did. Unfortunately, the tail that occasionally slapped against the wood floor kept her sidelined.

The air in the tavern stilled, like a person holding their breath. Cullen’s heart, which had been beating wildly in his chest, evened as a wave of calm passed over him. His left foot slid back into position as he gently bent his right knee just enough to keep his leg sturdy but agile. Fighting in a crowded tavern couldn’t be entirely different from fighting in a cramped and pitching ship. His opponent was a complete unknown, but Cullen wasn’t worried. All it took was a few minutes of fighting before one’s nature as a swordsman became known. 

With a devilish cry, Tigh launched himself forward. His cutlass went high, which Cullen was able to parry easily by simply raising his arm. Cullen curled his sword around Tigh’s and thrust forward to make point. The other man was ready and he slid backwards, batting Cullen’s sword away from him as he did so. He thrust forward again, his sword aiming for Cullen’s shoulder. Again, Cullen parried. _Clack, clack, clack_ the swords clattered together in rapid succession as Tigh threw cut after cut towards Cullen. The other man snarled, spittle flying from his mouth as he pushed Cullen backward with thrust after thrust of his sword. Cullen danced backwards, willingly giving up the precious little room he had in the tavern. His strategy was simple, as Tigh was evidently a fury-fueled fighter, all fire and no refinement or stamina, all Cullen had to do was simply let the man tire himself out. 

Tigh attacked high again, lifting the cutlass over his head to strike down at Cullen’s head. In turn, Cullen lifted his arm to block and the two swords tangle together. Each man had to grab hold of their sword with both hands as they struggled against each other. The swords ground together, the metal singing shrilly. When Cullen saw Tigh exhale and a drop of sweat appear at the man’s temple, drifting lazily down the man’s cheek, he knew it was time. With a hefty kick of his boot into the man’s stomach, he sent Tigh flying back. The man snarled as Cullen went on the offensive. Cullen swept forward, attacking Tigh’s right shoulder, left hip and right arm in rapid succession. Tigh was quick, moving to parry the blows but he wasn’t fast enough. There was a little squeal from the crowd as Cullen’s cut connected on Tigh’s right arm. The man hissed as the superficial cut blossomed red. 

“Back down, Tigh and no more blood has to be spilled,” Cullen warned. 

“I’m only getting started.”

Tigh roared and swung the cutlass at Cullen’s ankles. The Captain quickly jumped, the attack missing. As soon as he landed Tigh went for his shoulder and while Cullen tried to parry, Tigh stepped off the line and the point of his sword made immediate contact with Cullen’s flesh. The tip of the blade embedded itself into the skin, causing Cullen’s vision to turn suddenly white as his brain temporarily shut down from shock. Tigh pulled the sword free and Cullen grunted in pain, his mind returning. There was a movement out of the corner of his eye and Cullen couldn’t stop himself from looking over at Rhian’s frightened face. 

“Cullen, look out!” she cried. 

As Cullen looked back, Tigh cried out in pain and clutched at his ears. Cullen’s eyes danced around the tavern, nearly everyone had their hands over their ears and those who didn’t still looked at Rhian with horror. It was her voice, Cullen realized, the high-pitched whistling sounds the Mer used combined with the heightened emotion meant that she had a way of disarming Tigh. He looked back to her and as their eyes met she nodded and opened her mouth. To his ears, she sang a low note. But the rest of the tavern cried out in pain. The Tavern Keeper and his wife had their hands over their ears and they were shouting for Cullen to run over the cacophony. Cullen sheathed his sword as he went to Rhian and lifted her easily into his arms. His shoulder screamed in pain, but adrenaline kept him moving. Rhian slung her arms about his neck and let him carry her out into the city.

Night had fallen and while the lamplighters had illuminated the city, Cullen was turned around. He jogged as fast as he could down the streets with Rhian bouncing in his arms. In the distance he heard shouts as Tigh and his recruits recovered and erupted from the tavern. Cullen was sure they were lost, but he tried to listen for the sounds of the sea. Finally he turned down an alley and ran. He turned another corner and…

A dead end. 

A huge wrought iron gate stood in the way, blocking them from leaving the alley. Cullen cursed under his breath and turned to run back when he saw Tigh and his men approaching, nets and swords in hand. Cullen froze, watching them as Rhian stiffened. In the agonizing minutes of the mob’s approach, Cullen became aware of the pain in his arm and the blood that was steadily seeping into his shirt. His arms wavered and finally collapsed as he was forced to put Rhian down. She fell into Cullen’s chest, and though he could no longer hold her up high, he still wrapped his arms around her and held her close. 

“Cullen,” she whispered. “I- I’m sorry it came to this.”

“I’ll die before I let them take you.”

“No! You have to save yourself. Leave me.”

“Never.”

Cullen looked down at her sad face and felt tears prick at his eyes. Maker, it just wasn’t right. He’d never met a woman like her and the only time he’d ever come to close to feeling the way he felt when he was with her had been on the sea. But in that moment, he’d gladly give it all up if it meant saving her life. He’d give his own if it would keep her safe. Rhian reached up and wiped at his cheeks, which he hadn’t realized were wet. Together, he bent down as she pushed up and their lips collided. Unlike the previous kiss, which was all sweet hesitation, this kiss was rough, demanding and… final. Their mouths opened for each other, tongues meeting as Rhian’s fingers laced through his hair. Cullen sobbed softly into her lips, fully expecting the next moment to bring a sword into his gullet. 

What he did not expect, however, was the sound of the wrought iron gate creaking open. 

Pounding footsteps filled the alley around them as Cullen and Rhian broke away and looked up to see none other than Captain Isabela and her crew. She stood next to the gate, a great tri-corn hat perched on her head and lock picks shining in her hand. 

“Oi, save the steamy bits for later!” she cried as she rushed past them, drawing her daggers. Glancing back over her shoulder, she added with a wink, “and for me.”

“How did you-”

“I’m sure you’re a great sailor, Curly, but you’re a terrible liar.” She twirled her daggers in her hands and nodded her head towards the gate. “Get her out of here. The water’s three blocks to the south.”

Cullen opened his mouth to protest, but she quickly cut him off. “My crew and I are buying your time, lover boy. Don’t waste it.”

Ignoring his shoulder, Cullen hoisted Rhian into the air and ran off into the night. He ignored the sounds of battle that called for him to come back and help the crew that, for reasons he did not fully comprehend, had come back to rescue him. Rhian suddenly shrieked with pain in his arms. 

“Water!” she cried. “Cullen, it hurts!”

Looking down he saw the little wavy lines at her neck flair out. _Gills_ he realized at once. If he didn’t get her to the water, Maker, he feared she would die. He picked up his pace, finding stamina reserves somewhere in his body. His feet pounded against the cobblestones and it was only by the Maker’s own grace that he didn’t stumble and fall. True to Isabela’s word, the water was just where she’d said. Rhian tugged at the dress on her form, finally lifting it up and over her as Cullen sprinted for the water. She shrieked in pain again as the air hit her skin. 

“Come back here!” Tigh’s cry sounded over his shoulder. 

Cullen turned to see the treasure hunter closing in on the two of them. Somehow he’d gotten past Isabela and her crew and Maker, he was as fast as Cullen was tired. Cullen lurched down to the water’s edge, his boots sinking into white sand as he tried to push his way across the beach. Tigh was just behind him, so close Cullen feared a dagger in his back at any moment. The Captain waded into the water, trying to get to a spot deep enough that he could let go of Rhian. He reached shin-deep water as he heard splashing behind him. With no other choice, Cullen looked down at Rhian in his arms. 

“I-” he began. There was too much to say and too little time to do it in.

“I…have to be in the water. I’m so sorry.”

“I know, it’s okay. You need to get far away from here. Just swim and don’t look back. He might take ship and hunt you,” he whispered, tears pricking at his eyes and threatening to fall at any moment. 

“This isn’t the end,” she promised.

“I’ll find you.”

Suddenly, hand grabbed the back of Cullen’s waistcoat and tried to haul him backwards. With every last ounce of his strength, Cullen pushed Rhian from his arms and into the water. She hit the water and immediately rolled further into the surf. Cullen fell on to his back, saltwater covering his face and immediately filling his nose. 

“No!” Tigh cried as she disappeared into the dark water. 

Cullen coughed against the burn of the water and laughed shakily and bitterly as he could manage as Rhian disappeared completely from sight. “She’s gone. You lose, you blighter.”

Tigh growled and drew his sword. “I’ll kill you. She’ll come back when she smells blood in the water.”

All at once, there was a glint of metal at Tigh’s throat. “I think not,” Isabela crowed. “You thought you could slip away, didn’t you? Naughty.” She looked down at Cullen, who still sat in the water. “She gone?”

“Yeah.”

“Aw, too bad. I’ve never had a mermaid.” She looked back up to Tigh. “Your payday is gone, now either leave or take a step forward onto my blade.”

The treasure hunter cursed, shaking his head. Cullen didn’t take his eyes off of the horizon as the man stomped away. A moment later, Isabela’s hand appeared in his vision. He took it and let her help him to his feet. The two stood side by side, staring out at the black ocean. The moonlight glinted off the water’s surface, but there wasn’t enough to see behind the choppy surface. 

After a moment, Isabela spoke, “You know, my first mate was stupid enough to get himself caught by the authorities earlier today, so there’s an opening on my ship for a new first mate.”

“From Captain to First Mate,” Cullen sighed. At her raised eyebrow he finally explained the events that had led him into the situation to begin with.

“Mutineers, eh?” She sheathed her daggers and rested her hands on her hips. “Well, I can’t stand them myself, so how about we hunt down your ship and gut the bastards?”

Cullen spared another glance at the dark horizon. Was Rhian out there watching him, waiting for Tigh to leave before coming back? In his gut he knew that no, she had fled for the safety of the open water. All he could do was hope that somehow in the vastness of the sea, he’d find her again. He sighed shakily and wiped his eyes. Cullen cleared his throat and stood up straighter before addressing Isabela: 

“On your orders, Captain.”

**Author's Note:**

> My note in this are kind of looooooong sorry!! I just have a lot to note!
> 
> Edit: Apparently none of links decided to work? They should be fixed now!
> 
> Hi! I really hope you enjoyed reading this. I put a LOT of work into this, lots and lots and LOTS of research. So my swap partner gave me the option of doing a modern AU or a pirate/merperson AU. I was really originally just going to do a really quick modern AU character study about a married Cullen and Rhian. Then, this story just kind of hit me over the head. I saw a piece on DA and I knew immediately that I wanted to write this AU around that art. It’s [here](http://laura-csajagi.deviantart.com/art/The-marine-and-the-mermaid-in-trouble-311343626) if you’re interested. I won’t embed it as I don’t have permission. I’ve never ever ever written anything about mermaids in my life. So I hope that this was good??
> 
> And I know the ending isn’t 100% happily ever after, but I like to think that it’s kind of just beginning. Honestly I kind of what to write a sequel where Cullen and Isabela track down his ship and take it back. I kind of imagine that after Cullen gets his ship back is when he goes hunting for Rhian. 
> 
> I did day’s worth of crawling the internet for mermaid lore, to the point where now I feel like I could write a dissertation on mermaid legends, haha. In the end, I decided to go with more modern interpretations of mermaids, borrowing from Splash (which I’ve never actually seen, I just read that Darryl Hannah can walk on land but gets a tail when her legs are wet) and adapted the Mermaid’s Kiss from Pirates of the Caribbean (which I thought was really under utilized) and that painting linked above and boom, AU time!
> 
> Cullen is a BIT out of character in this, but in places I didn’t really have much choice. I needed him to do what I needed him to do, you know? Also, if you’re sharp-eyed you may have noticed that I envisioned Cullen’s DA2 uniform as a pirate costume. At least, I tried. 
> 
> Also, I figured it would be fun to use a lot of DA2 references as he was (Knight)Captain Cullen back then. 
> 
> Also also, you really CAN’T have a Pirate AU and leave out Isabela, I mean seriously. Also, there’s a little bit of Isabela ex Machina at the end, but I thought it was fun. ;) 
> 
> Cullen’s sea shanty is a real sea shanty, but rewritten using Thedosian place names. It’s called Spanish Ladies and as its traditionally a British naval song, I figured it sounded proper Ferelden. 
> 
> Here’s a link to it being performed by a men’s choir, and you can imagine it as being performed by Cullen’s crew: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PZfYtCLA23s>
> 
> And here’s a link to a woman performing it more like a dirge or ballad, instead of a choral arrangement: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HApnGBRjVmU>
> 
> Now if only I could convince Jonny Rees to sing it. :D
> 
> I had a lot of fun with the canon in this. It was nice to imagine a world 600 years after the Dragon Age and even moreso to imagine what it would be like without the prominent figures of Cullen, Warden Amell, etc. 
> 
> Also, the ackee is a real fruit. It’s Jamaican. To me Rivain seems perfect to be a more Caribbean setting, so that’s kind of what I went for? Insert shrugging emoji?
> 
> I think that’s it! Please please leave me a comment and let me know what you thought! Even if you thought it was terrible, I want to know! Thank you so much for reading and as always, you can find me on my tumblr at dear-miss-adair.tumblr.com <3


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